Maybe
by BountyHuntress16
Summary: [Vincent ValentineYuffie Kisaragi. Minific] She's waiting for a possibility that might not return.


A/N: I wrote this back when I was still paying the first KH so I had to redo it. It falls into the KH timeline when Hollow Bastion is overrun by Heartless. This of course assumes that other Final Fantasy characters are part of the canon, chiefly Vincent Valentine.

A bit of mindless fluff to enjoy.

--

"Were you ever in love, Yuffie?"

The question didn't just throw her off. It grabbed her by the neck, throttled and hurled her farther than any Gummi Ship could travel. Once she made the trip back, Sora was still there, perched on a stack of Merlin's books. He kicked his yellow sneakers about and waited.

Her intelligent reply: "What?"

"Were you ever in love?"

She assumed this wasn't a build-up to a declaration of love. (Their only compatible trait was their taste for brightly colored sneakers.) He must have had Kairi on the brain. The question then, was why he was asking her when the logical choice was Aerith or Cid. Not Leon/Squall though. Not until he was cured of his emotional constipation.

It wasn't Aerith or Cid he was asking though. Maybe he was urged on by the kinship of the brightly colored sneaker. Or all that hair gel was seeping into his brain.

"Yes" she answered. "But that was eons ago."

_Not so long ago_, her mind whispered.

"You ever wonder…wonder if they loved you back?"

She laughed, ignoring its hollow sound. "All the time. He was always brooding over his ex like she was a saint. Total angst-box. He was kind of creepy actually. He'd groan over his ex like a zombie and dressed like a vampire."

Sora made a face. "If he was so creepy, why'd you love him?"

"Because he was sexy." He tumbled off the pile of books, landing buried beneath a red tome and atop a green dictionary. She grinned at his shocked choirboy expression—she'd never seen lips in a perfect o-shape before. They were even then because he seemed to have never heard the adjective "sexy" before.

Once she helped him up and he was sitting in a high-backed chair (much safer than a book pile), Yuffie continued. "And he was patient. (Heck, you need to be patient with me.) And smart. And beneath all the angst, he had a good heart"

"Where is he now?"

Any semblance of good mood died as if a Heartless had snatched it. The grin remained on her face. "I dunno. He left Hollow Bastion a few weeks before maleficent took over to find help."

_I'll find aid_ he'd promised. Later in secret, in the castle halls, in shadow: _If I don't come back, don't wait for me Yuffie. Don't become what I am._

She had told him that he loved him. Vincent hadn't replied.

"Yuffie?"

She started to find Sora peering at her, eyes softened in worry. He wore his emotions so plainly and sometimes she envied him that.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Kairi-?"

"If anyone can get the girl, Key-Boy, it's you."

The grin remained.

--

The wind bit at her skin, free to pain her now that the sun was gone and no longer gave her protection. She wasn't supposed to be out alone after dark. Leon and Cid's rules that Aerith had oh-so-graciously accepted and who wanted to contradict Aerith? She certainly didn't. It made her feel even younger. Not that the rules stopped her.

Her eyes peered at the former shell of Maleficent's castle, still crawling with evil. The structure was fit for a princess of which the universe was not empty. Discounting the seven princesses of heart there were still quite a few, herself included. Yuffie shook her head—that line of thinking led to homesickness and she didn't need those feelings on top of everything else. Maybe it would be better if she went in and pretended like she always happy.

Maybes. Her life was filled with maybes and she was exceedingly sick of them and their pressure upon her nerves. Maybe Sora and his friends would save the world. Maybe she'd return home. Maybe Leon would find Rinoa or stop denying the pining glances he cast at Aerith. Maybe Cid would reclaim his puke machine ship. Maybe she'd be a princess again.

Maybe Vincent would return.

She turned from the castle and saw the light of Merlin's house, beckoning to her. The old man was a nut but he was a loving nut and it was probably best to go back into his home. The water on her cheeks had dried anyway. The ninja threw up her hands, arched her back into a perfect semi-circle and began the walk home.

"Maybe he's dead," she said aloud, both scaring and relieving herself.

Then there was a rustle and the bittersweet clink of boots against cobble.

She pivoted sharply on her heel, the folds of her vest swinging violently with her. The fabric dropped and there he was, not smiling but so very, very close to it.

Whooping jubilantly she ran to him and into his mismatched arms, almost missing when he whispered that he loved her too.


End file.
